


Do ya wanna play house?

by MamaMiyaMiya (Problemagician)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Confessional Sex, Daddy Kink, First Love, First Time, Incest, M/M, Mommy Kink, Mommy/Daddy Roleplay, Rimming, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Top!Osamu, Twincest, bottom!atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26975977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Problemagician/pseuds/MamaMiyaMiya
Summary: Osamu has loved his twin for a very long time. He should’ve seen this part coming.---“Um… do ya wanna play house?”Osamu froze as Atsumu timidly unzipped his own bag, slipping a hand to the bottom. He pulled out a girl’s uniform skirt, soft and pleated and short andGod knows where he got it. They’d have to keep it a secret because Osamu didn’t live in a fair world where he wasn’t punished in-tandem with his twin. He opened his mouth to complain before hearing the soft,“I’ll be the mommy.”His throat went dry as he imagined Atsumu wearing the cute thing. Osamu hated dolls. But this could be fun.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Miya Osamu
Comments: 17
Kudos: 501





	Do ya wanna play house?

**Author's Note:**

> A belated birthday present for a dear friend of mine who I love very much woohoo~ Most of these ideas are theirs and I ended up writing it out ;)

\- 1999 -

Atsumu still hadn’t fallen asleep, even after a long day of running and crying and two different baths, because they fell into the same puddle of mud they promised to be careful about. Now, in the wash of dark blue in their messy room, Osamu listened to the unmistakable sound of his twin with boundless energy.

“Mommy, mommy, kiss the daddy,” he sang under his breath for the 7th time.

Osamu always scrunched his nose at dolls—they were cold and unfeeling, hair dry and body too smooth. As a child, he reluctantly played with them anyway, a pile of hand-me-down gifts from an aunt whose name he can’t remember. Atsumu enjoyed them a lot more, a serene smile lighting his face as he made them dance, singing to himself in their shared bed. It would be many years before they’d get a bunk bed, many years before Osamu’d stop waking up to an unconscious fist in his face.

“Go to bed, Atsumu,” he groaned.

“S’rry. Okay.”

As a child, Atsumu was strangely obedient. The quiet acceptance angered Osamu even more than if he’d fought him over it. If he was going to be a doll, they didn’t need those plastic toys. He flipped over to face his twin, Atsumu’s eyes shadowed in the dark and a pout on his lips as he clenched the dolls to his chest. He could recognize the favorite—a boy with a permanent smile and blonde hair, and then one of the newer ones, a girl with no face that didn’t look very human at all.

Atsumu blinked up with Osamu’s movement and gave an apologetic smile. “It’s okay. I’m sleeping now,” he whispered.

Osamu grimaced and snatched them away. Of course, crybaby as he was, Atsumu started tearing up with confusion in his furrowed brows and puffing, pudgy cheeks.

“Don’t need them.”

He tossed them down on the bed and huddled closer, wrapping his arms around Atsumu and burying his twin’s head in his chest. Atsumu sniffled once before he settled in his arms, comfortably warm and giving a happy giggle.

“Goodnight, Atsumu.”

“G’night, Osamu.”

\- 2004 -

Osamu thinks it was that night that snowballed his obsession with Atsumu’s love of playing house. He hadn’t roleplayed with dolls in years and yet Osamu still found himself teasing him about it, sometimes even taking out the old favorite blonde no one could quite bring themselves to throw away. He’d sneak up behind him and sit it on his twin’s shoulder, mimicking cheesy Hello Kitty quotes and telling him how lonely he was. They’d come home from middle school and Osamu’d ask him if he wanted to play doctor, to play daycare, to play _house_.

And Atsumu would furiously blush every time, yelling and swatting (occasionally tackling) which only made Osamu want to do it more. This day wasn’t any different, both of them sore but pleasantly buzzed from a school sports day. It was a lazy afternoon with hot, open windows when Atsumu fell onto the couch on his back.

“Wanna play house, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu giggled, flopping on top of his twin.

“Yer only this mean to me when mom and dad aren’t home,” Atsumu grumbled, trying to shove off the dead weight.

“What do ya mean? I’m the daddy and yer the mommy right now.”

Atsumu flailed under him. “If anythin’, _you’d_ be the wife, ‘Samu.”

Oh?

Osamu’s eyes widened. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Oh… N-no, I didn’t—”

“Go on. Tell me. Unless ya changed your mind.”

Osamu peered down at him curiously, watching him furrows his eyebrows and purse his puffy lips.

Atsumu huffed. “I’m just saying… yer the one who cooks and cleans and stuff… yer more like mom.”

“Hah! No,” Osamu chuckled, flicking his forehead. “Yer a mama’s boy who doesn’t know anythin’. I have to be the responsible dad and take care of yous.”

They fought that night over it. It was silly really, because of course Osamu was right.

\- 2008 -

“’Samu?”

He threw down his volleyball bag and blinked over at Atsumu, who had a mischievous glint in his eye from where he knelt. “What?”

“Um… do ya wanna play house?”

Osamu froze as Atsumu timidly unzipped his own bag, slipping a hand to the bottom. He pulled out a girl’s uniform skirt, soft and pleated and short and _God knows where he got it_. They’d have to keep it a secret because Osamu didn’t live in a fair world where he wasn’t punished in-tandem with his twin. He opened his mouth to complain before hearing the soft, “I’ll be the mommy.”

His throat went dry as he imagined Atsumu wearing the cute thing. Osamu hated dolls. But this could be fun.

\- 2012 -

Atsumu was still a crybaby in high school, just in more subtle ways. Constantly complaining, overcompensating confidence, whining and whining and _whining_. But Osamu tried not to care. When Atsumu came home, he couldn’t fake anything anymore.

As soon as the bags were down and no sounds of their parents came from inside, Atsumu would curl into his arms and look at him with misty eyes until he hugged him back.

“Such a mama’s boy,” he said, with none of his usual bite. Osamu pressed his lips to his forehead and led them back to their room, pinkies interlocked. He locked the door, palms already sweaty before he even sat in Atsumu’s bottom bunk. They slowly went down together, Atsumu silently begging for touch with wavering eyes and pouting lips. He was quick to get clingy, wrapping his leg around his and hands fumbling to find his.

This was the real Atsumu. Soft, compliant, needy.

Osamu kissed down his jaw like he’d done a hundred times before, at first copied directly from his parents but now after extensive practice of knowing what Atsumu liked. His preferences were made known in all the indirect ways—breath hitching, trembling lips, shivers, clenching fists, long exhales, and occasionally even the quietest of moans.

Sometimes, in the darkest parts of Osamu’s mind, it all felt pornographic. Was this really something brothers could do? Was it wrong if it felt like this? But he did what he liked, pressing a chaste string of kisses harder and harder, working down to his neck and settling on his throat.

“Mm…”

“Jeez, mommy,” Osamu murmured with a smile, “Ya even sound like one, too.”

“No…”

“Ssh, yes ya do. Lil’ mama’s boy wants to be just like her.”

“’ _Samuuu_ …”

They should probably stop playing house. They’re too old for it now, anyway. But…

“No. Not ‘Samu, you should call me Daddy, right?”

“Daddy…?” He tried it out, swishing around the sound of it in his mouth. “Daddy.”

Something hot started in his ears and tore down his spine. Osamu had only snuck a sip before, but he was sure he could get drunk off of this. “Yup. Daddy. Here to take care of you. So relax, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“What a good mommy for me,” he cooed, kissing across his throat again. But Osamu wanted more, so much more. His finger slid up his shirt, playfully squeezing at his nipples.

“Ah!”

“Haha, Mommy. You have twins, shouldn’t ya have milk for me?”

“I don’t…” Atsumu whined, arching into the touch.

“Come on. I heard they grow bigger if ya massage ‘em a lot.”

Atsumu let out a shaky exhale before his hands bobbled up his shirt, making Osamu feel something hot and heavy struggle in the pit of his stomach. He’s his twin. So why was everything so much better with him? This was nothing like the television shows, where some starry-eyed girl met a starry-eyed boy, not related by blood or binding and certainly not with identical faces. Maybe it was better _because_ they were twins and not despite.

Osamu slowly laid across him, mouthing earnestly at a nipple and enjoying the way Atsumu jerked against him.

“C’mon, ya shouldn’t be that sensitive,” he teased, kissing the other.

He was perfect, squirming under him, letting him do what he wanted, being such a good mommy.

Osamu licked at it earnestly, sucking on Atsumu’s nipple and watching the way he stared at him, mouth open wide, cheeks pink and shivering. It made him want to keep going, do more than he’d ever done.

“I’ll make yer tits real big, Mommy. Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. Thank you, Daddy.”

Osamu blamed the dolls. Atsumu never complained about anything.

\- 2013 -

They’d been fighting. Physically, it was over. Non-verbally? Absolutely not. They glared at each other over their personal choices for the future—it wasn’t just about what was right; it was the unspoken truth that they’d be apart for the first time in their entire lives. It was about volleyball and cooking, their two loves, as much as it was about the seesaw broken between them, snapped right at its center bolt.

They had all the time in the world together until suddenly they didn’t.

Atsumu was the first to break the 3-day silence.

Their parents were in the kitchen, ignoring their latest spat and singing showtunes, oblivious to the seriousness of it. But that didn’t stop Atsumu from stomping right up to him in the middle of the living room.

“Do ya still like me, ‘Samu?” Atsumu had asked, still bristling, upset, but with confused tears in his eyes. Osamu had thought he’d finally lost it, hearing something so ludicrous and impossible and unfathomable, all within ear-shot of their parents.

“Are you an idiot?” he seethed. His own heart twisted, broken. How could Atsumu, the one who knew him the most, know nothing at all?

He’d never felt so alone in that single moment, his own tears spilling and consequently shocking Atsumu into backing down.

“What?”

Osamu threw his arms around him and sobbed. Atsumu hurriedly dragged him back to their haven, a locked door, a shared bunk, soft kisses and whispers of a life forever entwined just as God herself had intended.

\- 2014 -

Perhaps he should’ve seen this part coming years ago. Before the nipples or the cuddling or the kisses or any of the things they’d solemnly and wordlessly confirmed were _not_ normal and _not_ socially acceptable things for twins to do.

It’s the day before they both move out to different universities—Atsumu on a sports scholarship and Osamu going to culinary school. Boxes litter the floor, labeled “A” or “O” for their respective names, brown cardboard reminders of the inevitable. The day their paths diverge. For far too long.

It’s two hours before their parents come back home from their last-minute shopping, something about a going away meal as a family, and Atsumu’s finally crying. The pain is out in the open where only Osamu can see it and understand it.

“We’ll see each other often,” Osamu chokes, peering into his eyes on the bottom bunk from where they sit across from each other. He squeezes his hands, partly for himself and partly for his twin. They’re perfect fits at the perfect temperature that won’t be here tomorrow.

“I know.”

“You’ll always have me even when everyone hates ya on yer new team.”

“I know.”

“And I-I’ll always take care of ya.”

At that, Atsumu chokes out a laugh through his tears. “Like a d-daddy?”

“Yeah. Like a daddy. _Yer_ Daddy, ‘Tsumu.”

Osamu releases their conjoined hands to take him in his arms for the millionth time, kissing along the bridge of his nose and then down, tenderly, on wet lips. He expects the usual—Atsumu whining, letting him do what he wants to his skin, hard in his pants but never daring to take them off, let alone admit to it.

He doesn’t expect Atsumu to suck on his tongue, hands climbing up the back of his shirt on bare skin as he desperately clings on. Atsumu’s always been needy, but this is more than that.

The one who breaks the kiss is Osamu, panting, red etching down his face like fire. He doesn’t know where to look, eyes darting around before finding enough bravery to look at him. “Atsumu? Atsumu, what’re ya doing?”

Guilt passes over his face for just a moment. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, don’t be, I just…” Osamu trails off and kisses his cheek, then his chin, then lingers on his lips. The words are inevitable, too. “Atsumu. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Osamu.”

Fear and exhilaration mirror in an identical, nervous smile. There’s no taking it back now. They’ve known, both known, for years now what kind of love they have. They both lean in, lips slotting together and cementing this new something between them. Warm and loving as usual but more meaningful, deeper and unrestrained when they sink into it. Atsumu’s hands slip back up his shirt, massaging the muscle there while Osamu glides his hands up his twin’s abs in return.

He should’ve seen this part coming.

Atsumu lays back in the bed, holding his shirt up with both hands as his brother hovers over him between his legs. He clenches the fabric feverishly as Osamu palms and twists his nipples, kissing hard abs and the soft crevices between them.

“Yer tits are so big, ‘Tsumu,” he groans against him, planting a fat, wet kiss on the left one. “Like a real mommy.”

Atsumu moans at that, legs twisting uselessly around Osamu’s, who won’t let up, who won’t let his beautiful brother move away from his mouth.

“It’s your fault, ‘Samu… It’s your fault.”

It is. He’s touched and kneaded and kissed and licked these nipples for years now. Osamu read online it would help them grow, and he’d become too attached to playtime to ever stop. The little bulges on his chest are maybe the only difference between their bodies now, just big enough for him to palm and squeeze. It went commented on only once in the locker room from Aran, who assumed Atsumu was a heartbreaker and already fooling around. And he was was—with his brother.

“I love ‘em. I love yer tits, ‘Tsumu. Look at them. Go on, look at how big they are.”

Atsumu whimpers but does as he’s told, head tilting from the pillow to watch Osamu staring at him, mouth gently tugging at his left nipple before defiling the right with long, hot licks. They get slower and slower because Atsumu tastes delicious and keeps gasping every time like it’s the first.

“Mmph…”

“It’s okay. Let it out,” Osamu encourages, voice warbling. “Be louder. No one’s here.”

His moans pitch on cue, body bucking up as Osamu sucks at him. Fuck. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen and he suddenly isn’t sure he can handle his own intense emotions. He wants to tear him apart, he wants to put him together.

“’Tsumu, you like it when I look at you like this?” he says, breathy.

Atsumu hesitates but vigorously nods. “S’hoooot,” he groans. “Feels gooood.”

“You’re so sexy, Atsumu. God, you’re so damn hot,” Osamu whines. His tongue gets sloppy, flicking across the hot skin. “I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you _so_ bad.”

Atsumu chokes and writhes under him. “Yes. Yes,” before nodding harder, “Please, I want you inside me.”

“Yeah? How long have you wanted it?”

“ _Always_.”

Osamu growls and kisses down his taut chest, one sexy ab at a time, until he’s kissing over his pants and licking at the tent. The tent they’ve always ignored, the meaning behind it too much to accept as two people who didn’t understand the world and yet were always searching for their place in it. He stops when he hears Atsumu laughing, hands still shivering as they continue to hold up his shirt.

“What? What is it?” Osamu says, somehow dizzier when he stops mouthing at Atsumu’s crotch. 

His brother sighs, exhales, shakes his head. “Fuck. We’re so fucked up, ‘Samu.”

Osamu blinks at him before burying his face into Atsumu and laughing back. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re so fucked up,” he says, muffled, before lifting his head again. “But I can’t stop. I love you.”

His older twin’s fingers reach down to scratch soothingly at his scalp, trailing through gray hair before cupping his cheek. “Every time you say that I want you more.”

“Good.”

Osamu dips his fingers into the waistband of Atsumu’s shorts before shoving them down, wet lips dryer as he stares at the hard cock hidden behind boxers that match his own.

They’re doing this. They’re finally doing this. It doesn’t matter how wrong it is, no one but them has to know. Why should he stop loving his soulmate because someone else says not to? It’s not like he’s ever cared before about following rules.

Osamu, in his lusty haze, remembers the first time he heard Atsumu moan and every time after, wondering if their dicks were identical. He always forced himself not to look in the showers, forced himself not to climb down to Atsumu’s bunk when they were masturbating together, talking each other through what to do.

_“Going faster, thumb over the tip…” he’d groaned, fisting himself and wishing it was someone else’s hand._

_“Me too, ‘Samu… Fuck, leaking so much…”_

_“Me too. C-cup your balls too, now,” he’d demanded, wishing he could be the one to do it for him._

_“Okay… okay, ah, yes…”_

_“’Tsumu…”_

_“Yes?”_

_“’Tsumu, I’m gonna cum soon…”_

_“Me too… I-I’m gonna try to put a finger inside…”_

_“Really…?”_

_“Mm…”_

Now that he reflects on it, he knows he’d moaned Atsumu’s name. They’d been careful not to cross a line—one they drew farther away from other people’s because they weren’t like most. A line they’re now racing toward, prepared to destroy in their haste. Osamu sucks one more time at the cock hidden before boxers before steadying himself.

“T-turn around. Get on your hands and knees.”

Atsumu lets go of his shirt and wipes at his teary, drooling face before flipping over to obey him. He clammers to his knees and looks over his shoulder. “Like this?”

“Yes. Damn.” Osamu’s hands caress the clothed curves of his ass before he pulls down his underwear lower, lower, lower, until the only thing keeping it up is Atsumu’s hard cock. He bites at the bare skin, sucking with lots of tongue before cursing himself for how much his erection hurts in his pants.

“So beautiful, ‘Tsumu. Such a nice ass.” He squeezes the cheeks, together and apart and together again. “God, I want my dick inside you right now.”

“ _’Samuuuuu_ ,” he sobs, already swaying his hips and bending himself lower. He was born for this, born just for Osamu to fuck.

One last time, Osamu gently separates his cheeks, nose twisting and apprehensive about the cleanliness of what he’s about to do. He won’t go far, but he’s curious, and he wants it. So, so badly. Osamu’s tongue licks up the tight hole and Atsumu keens, a confused gasp leaving his mouth. He licks back down, up, a few more rounds until it’s glistening with spit and the hole, despite only the gentle prods, is twitching for more.

“Does it feel that good?”

“Mhmm,” Atsumu nods through gritted teeth.

Osamu does it more, sucking and licking at the hole even if he doesn’t dare go deeper. The twitching from Atsumu probably spurs him on more than he’s grossed out. With one last bite to the underside of his ass, he pulls away.

Atsumu whines at the loss of contact, and Osamu runs gentle fingers up his skin. God, he wants him so badly. He’s light-headed, dizzy and nauseous from the idea of it, like he’ll pass out before he gets the chance. Is he dreaming? He’s dreaming of fucking his brother, and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

But if he’s going to fuck his brother, dream or not, he’s going to fuck him right. Lube. He needs lube.

“”Tsumu. I-I’m gonna go get lube. Don’t take yer cock out. Okay?”

“What? Why?”

He can’t explain why, not yet anyway. Osamu’s afraid that if he sees Atsumu’s leaking cock then he really will pass out.

“Just don’t.”

Osamu swings himself off the bed, almost stepping on his phone that’s been tossed to the floor, before he dashes out the room. He bumps into walls and the ends of tables in his horny haze, one hand squeezing at his stomach from where he thinks he’ll be sick. He throws the sliding door of their parents’ bathroom to the side, dropping painfully to his knees before opening up the cupboard under their sink. Osamu tries not to knock everything over, looking over his shoulder fretfully from time to time, desperately searching for his mother’s ‘medical’ lube.

He sees it next to a box of tampons, grabbing the little blue bottle and yanking it out too fast. Osamu yelps after nicking him arm on the frame but makes sure not to drop his prize. He stands up and eases the doors shut with his foot before he’s running back through the house, praying he’s not going to come across his parents in the living room, heart hammering before he’s back in his own room and slamming and locking the door shut.

Osamu turns and gags.

So, their cocks are identical after all.

Atsumu’s fisting himself ever so slowly with one forceful hand and he jolts, head whipping to Osamu at the door. He turns, guilty, hand falling away from his cock, bobbing and red and very much leaking precum.

“S’rry, sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to, I thought—”

“Stop. Don’t. Shut up.” Osamu takes deep breaths and tears his eyes away as he approaches, hand shakily clenching the blue bottle. “Put it back the way it was.”

It takes maybe three tries to get it as perfect as before. Atsumu stretches his legs so his cock holds up the underwear and Osamu inhales.

“Good. Okay… I’m gonna stretch ya open. Yeah?”

His brother’s head falls all the way into the pillow and he arches back. It’s a yes if he’s ever seen one. Osamu brings his face back down to his ass, lapping at the clenching and unclenching ring a little more as he unscrews the cap of the lube and pours some on his fingers. He moves back to replace his mouth with one, and Atsumu flinches away.

“A-ah, cold.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Osamu circles him with his pointer finger before the tip ever dares to push. Atsumu shivers. “’Samu…”

“Just relax,” Osamu says, using his other hand to caress his ass. “I gotcha, okay? I’ll take care of ya.”

“Yes. Mm. Alright.”

The change is gradual, his head lolls to the side in the crook of his arm, then it’s his back, then it’s his legs not so strained.

“Good boy,” he assures with a kiss to his right cheek. He continues to kiss down from there, finger pushing in and in and then out some, as his lips find the back of his knee.

“Ah…”

Oh? He kisses the spot more, pumping his finger shallowly in and out until Atsumu is the one rocking into it and pushing him further in. He sucks at the sensitive skin on the back of his knee and even dares to give it a small bite with gentle teeth. On one particularly nice thrust, Osamu pushes all the way in and Atsumu cries out before fucking himself faster.

“Doing good, Atsumu… fuck look at you…”

Osamu kisses back up and starts easing in the second finger, letting his brother’s mewls spur him on. He wants to adjust his pants, painful, so painful with need and cramped against his zipper. Atsumu slows down, shivering as the second lubed finger stretches him wider.

“Doing good, Atsumu… look so hot. Don’t stop, keep going. Feel good, okay?”

“Mmph…”

Atsumu slowly pushes back and forth on his still fingers, taking the second one deeper to join the first. It’s a lot for him, but the tension melts out of him the more Osamu reassures him with kisses.

“’Tsumu. Look at ya. Yer the one fucking yerself on my fingers. You want my cock so bad.”

“Yes. Fuck, I do,” he sobs into his arm, beginning to fuck himself fast again. “My cock hurts. So hard.”

“Don’t touch it yet. You can do it. Concentrate on how good my fingers are.”

“So good, ‘Samu.”

He preens from the praise. He’s doing well for him. And he can do better. One shivery hand grabs the bottle again.

“It’s gonna be cold, okay?”

“Mmm!”

It squirts another drop and Osamu circles the third finger, wondering how it feels. How good is it? He wouldn’t mind Atsumu trying the same thing on him, or Atsumu eating out his ass, or Atsumu’s dick _in_ his ass—

He banishes the thought, feeling sick in the pit of his stomach at how far gone he is. Osamu buries the resurfacing guilt in gentle kisses to his ass again as he pumps slowly.

“Yer so beautiful, ‘Tsumu. I love you. I _love_ you.”

“’Samu. Love you. Love you sooo much.”

Osamu grins and lets the happy fluttering in his chest fill him. That’s right. As long as they love each other then everything is fine. He begins the process of pushing in the third finger and Atsumu gasps. “A-ah, wait, wait, no.”

“Okay.”

He stops but doesn’t remove the finger, letting Atsumu work himself through it and calm down. Osamu focuses on his own breathing, on detailing the sexy sight before him of his brother trusting and surrendering everything to him. Hot skin, plump cheeks willing and waiting, fingers knuckle deep.

“M’ready,” Atsumu finally says.

“Good. Good boy.” Atsumu’s probably full of it, so Osamu will pretend to believe him so he really is ready. “Takin’ me so well, Mommy. So good fer me. So, so sexy, ‘Tsumu.”

The third finger joins the others easier than he expects. Atsumu really _does_ love praise, doesn’t he? Osamu knew that but seeing his twin keen and need and want from it sends blood and pride racing to his head.

“Ya did it, ‘Tsumu. All three. Fuck my fingers so I know yer ready.”

“Mmh!” He enthusiastically does as instructed, and it makes Osamu want to fist himself the same way he caught Atsumu. His cock is probably just as red, just as leaking. He curls his fingers just slightly and Atsumu’s reaction scares him.

He screams for a moment before he’s fucking himself faster, head raising to openly sob. His head turns to catch Osamu’s eyes, tears streaming down his red face.

Fuck. _Hell._ Damn it all. “T-take ‘em off.”

“What?”

“Take ‘em the fuck off, Atsumu. Yer underwear. _Off! Down_!”

Atsumu struggles to reach back and hook a finger, peeling his boxers off his cock and wincing. Osamu forgets to breathe as he slowly removes his fingers despite his twin’s whines.

“Yer ready for me? Are ya? If you’re not I swear I—”

He doesn’t even know what he’s swearing, but Atsumu nods and says, “Yes. Please.”

Osamu hurriedly throws off his own clothing—top, pants, underwear—too enamored to even know where he just threw them. Space, maybe.

He throws lube on his dick and hisses. Yeah, cold. Damn. But he works it over his shaft before he’s sitting up on his knees and angling Atsumu’s ass up to meet it. Beautiful.

“’Samu?”

“What?” he barks, wanting to cry as he waits, the tip of his cock at the gaping hole that demands to be filled.

“A-are we not usin’ condoms?”

“What the hell we need a god-fuck-condom for, Atsumu?” he rasps, whole body shaking. “Are ya fuckin’ other brothers? Ya gonna get pregnant? Are you…” It clicks in his head that this first could be the last time if their interests don’t match up. He loves Atsumu, he only wants to fuck Atsumu, there’s never going to _be_ anyone else. But him… love might be different for him. He might love him but still want something normal, something he can show the world without fear because he’s going to become the big, public star he’s always been destined to be. At that reminder, Osamu’s heart sinks.

“Do ya plan on experimentin’ at university?” he asks, measured, wondering if he really has to go back and find a condom.

Atsumu doesn’t answer at first before he’s shaking his head. “No…” One hand reaches back and Osamu meets him halfway, threading their fingers together and squeezing. “I only want you, ‘Samu. M’just scared.”

“Of what?” Osamu thinks of doctors’ visits, if it’s possible to leave evidence that he’s been fucking his twin at check-ups or on STD tests.

“Scared it’ll feel too good… Won’t be able to go back, ‘Samu. My first and last.”

Osamu blinks at him before he releases a shuddery, relieved laugh. “’Tsumu… God, ‘Tsumu, yer so fuckin’ stupid. I love you.”

He kisses his spine and Atsumu laughs, choking back tears before he releases their hands and curls back into himself. “I love you too, demon. M’ready. Please.”

The head slips in easily, then almost out when Atsumu cries and flinches. Osamu throws a hand on his back to keep him down as he continues sinking himself into the tight, warm, slick ring. It’s better than his hand, maybe a hundred times over. He’s doing one of the most intimate and sexual things he can do with another person, and yet it’s the emotional high that’s making him short of breath.

“Oh my God… Atsumu?”

“Nn.”

“How does it feel?”

Atsumu snaps, voice pitching high. “How the hell do you think it feels? _Fuuuuuuck_. More, _mooore_.”

With a laugh, Osamu does as he says. “’Course.”

He bottoms out and gasps, basking only for a moment into the feeling until he’s pulling out and watching Atsumu so quickly and pathetically lose control of himself. His twin’s fists twist into the pillow so hard that Osamu thinks he might tear the cover. He hopes he will. Atsumu clenches around him, as if wanting to trap him inside.

“Ooh, ooh, shit. Oh, fuck. I feel like I wanna shit. It feels so good, ‘Samu.”

“Well, just don’t shit.”

Osamu moves both hands to grip his sides as he builds up speed, watching his brother flail below him, crying quite literally for more of his cock.

“So beautiful, Atsumu. So pretty when ya cry for my cock.”

“’Samu… ‘Samu, love you. Love your cock. So good.”

“That’s right. _My_ cock in ya. Feel so damn great. Tight. Tight.”

Osamu pistons faster when he feels Atsumu tighten even harder around him. “Yer gonna make me cum. Don’t clench yet,” he groans.

“Okay, okay!”

But he doesn’t stop, his ass grips his cock and wants to drain him. Osamu wants to let it, wants to see his cum dripping out of his twin’s pretty pink hole. The idea of it is throwing him off that ledge. His orgasm builds in his groin, boiling hot with every thrust.

“C’mon, Mommy, be good,” Osamu says, voice less sure as he struggles, “Don’t clench. Don’t make me cum yet. Be good.”

“But I _want_ yer cum, Daddy,” Atsumu whimpers sweetly.

Shit.

Osamu grips his waist as his release is ripped out of him, making spots in his vision and his arms shake involuntarily. It’s scary. There’s hot all around him and Osamu, once again, has to remind himself to breathe or he really will pass out. He doesn’t go unconscious, but he falls forward, both of them crumbling into the bed.

“O-ow, ‘Samu. Yer crushin’ me and my dick.”

He can’t move. He can’t even move his lips to tell him as much. His whole body aches. But Atsumu whines and throws his elbow back into him, making Osamu wheeze. “Ow. Okay. Up with me,” he manages to say.

Still attached at the hip, they both carefully return to their positions even though Osamu’s softening dick is almost entirely out.

In a startling realization, he knows with certainty that he doesn’t want it to be. Osamu pushes all the way back in, closing his eyes and inhaling deep through the overstimulation.

“’Samu? I still wanna cum. Gotta cum, ‘Samu. Hurts. Hard.”

“Nn. No.”

“ _No?”_

“Not yet.”

“ _Huh?!”_

Osamu kisses his back and Atsumu groans. “What are you…?”

“Again,” Osamu answers, breathy. He’d never be satisfied only going once, not when he doesn’t know when he’ll see Atsumu again. He needs this no matter what. If he dies, he dies.

“Again?” Atsumu murmurs.

“Yeah. Talk to me, ‘Tsumu. Say somethin’ hot.”

Osamu pets down his back as he watches cum glazing around the base of his cock and his stomach. It’s almost enough to get him hard again, but he needs Atsumu’s voice.

“Talk… talk, what’s there to say?” Atsumu groans, pushing back ever so slightly with a raspy voice. “You’ve already really fucked me out, Daddy.”

“Hunngh, again. Call me that _again_.”

“Daddy?”

“ _Yes_!”

He thrusts once—it’s painful, oversensitive, but oh so good. Atsumu moans. “D-Daddy…”

“Keep going, keep going.”

“Daddy… Daddy, ah, damn, good. Daddy feels good. Love you, love you. Feel yer cum in me. Feel ya getting hard in me. Oh shit, Daddy, _yes.”_

It’s enough.

Osamu fucks into him without abandon, the wet, slapping sounds of cum, lube, and debauchery surely audible behind their locked door. He’ll cum twice tonight. Seems a bit selfish, but he’ll figure that out later.

Atsumu’s balls brush his own, a little fuzzy and now wet with dripping cum between them. He can feel each time he hits a nice spot from the way his cock is clenched.

“Doin’ so _well_ , Atsumu. Such a _good_ mommy for me, I love you so much. So much cum is falling out. You like being stuffed full of it?”

“Yes! Yes, love yer cum, Daddy!”

Osamu slows down enough to gather dripping cum in his hand and lean over. His fingers get close to Atsumu’s face before he opens his mouth wide. Osamu slowly pushes them inside, letting Atsumu suck them clean as he continues to fuck into him.

His entire face and neck are red, a beautiful canvas. One day he’ll paint it himself.

Osamu massages his tongue, and Atsumu groans, eyes moving to meet his. He fucks his fingers into his mouth, clenching and unclenching on his cock while he does. So, his twin likes this too, huh? He’s learning so much, there’s so much to keep learning. He eases out his fingers, shushing Atsumu when he whines.

“I’ll give you more cum, ‘Tsumu, don’t worry.”

“Nn—more—please, please. Love you, more!”

With a long sigh, Osamu moves his hands to Atsumu’s wrists and yanks them back. He yelps, suspended just off the sheets, chest heaving as Osamu chases his second orgasm despite how sensitive it all feels.

“Not there, not there, feels too…!”

Osamu hits the same spot over and over, something inside him that feels different from the rest of his silky insides. He continues to hit it even when hears Atsumu cry out and his body weight go heavy.

“Cumming, cumming!”

Atsumu says it a bit too late, cum is already soaking the sheets when he starts. Tears stream down Osamu’s cheeks from how lucky he feels to hear Atsumu’s choked whining.

“Look at you, so full of my cum,” he pants, sniffling, fucking into him even though he must be so sensitive now, “So good for me, letting me fuck you so good and fill ya up so _much_.” Atsumu’s shoulders shake, but he’s no longer even whining, letting himself be used like his personal fuckdoll. So, so obedient and wonderful for him. “Maybe this time I’ll make you pregnant and yer’ll become a real mommy. Would ya like that, ‘Tsumu?”

Atsumu’s head rolls around in an attempt to nod, moaning low as he struggles to speak. “’Samu… ‘Samu, yer such a good daddy. You take such good care of me. I wanna be a mommy, I wanna get pregnant with yer cum ‘Samu, please.”

He doesn’t have to ask anymore. Osamu bites his lip as he cums for the second time, Atsumu continuing to moan out his desires like he’s drunk. “Please. I need to be good for you. Pleeeeaaase…”

The second orgasm isn’t as intense as the first, and yet it’s still better than any other time he’s ever done this. His knees shake against the bed, bile rises in his throat, heat scorches across his temple, his stomach is flipping circles.

This time Osamu has more control of himself and doesn’t collapse on top of his twin. He slowly lowers Atsumu flat on the bed before easing himself out and staring at the mess of fluid dribbling down between his twin’s legs.

“Damn. I love you so much. Damn. Amazing.” Sex has simultaneously been ruined and enlightened for him. “Stay still… don’t move…”

Atsumu says and does nothing as Osamu stumbles out of the bed, hardly able to support his own weight when he falls to the floor. His hands shiver and his vision swims as he crawls around near the bed, picking up and throwing clothes further away. He finds his cell phone underneath some socks and climbs back into bed. Osamu kisses Atsumu’s ass, making him shiver, before angling and snapping a picture.

“For the road,” he explains when Atsumu hears the shutter and weakly turns his head. Atsumu still says nothing as Osamu eases him all the way flat on his stomach, using one hand to spread his cheeks and putting his dick next to the swollen hole for another shot. He flips him over in his own cum and takes another before making him hold his legs up. Snap, another picture. Osamu takes pictures of his blissed-out face, shy close-ups of the drool running down his chin.

“Wait… me too.”

Osamu arches an eyebrow but gives him the phone. Atsumu grimaces as he points it at his face, snapping a couple pictures without directing him.

And then his eyes close, tired hands falling back down with the phone.

They have to clean up before their parents get home, but Osamu banishes the thought for a little longer. He lays to the side of him, snuggling close to his fucked-out twin. Osamu props his heavy head up on his chest and smiles when Atsumu brings his arms around him.

“Did ya mean it? You only want me?” he whispers. Osamu needs to know for sure, needs to keep his answer for every lonely night without him.

“Mmmever.”

“What was that?” he asks, heart hammering, trying not to think of a worst-case scenario.

“Forever.”

No amount of fatigue has ever prepared him for the cataclysmic crushing pressure of Atsumu’s words upon his heart. But not even that can stop Osamu from pressing his lips to his.

**Author's Note:**

> I am very busy haha but I do plan on returning to the Time Warp series and maybe doing a Miyacest version of it!


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